


Hurricane

by Cur



Category: Hamilton - Miranda
Genre: Angst, Anxiety, Death, F/M, Grief, Hurricane, Lowkey insanity, PTSD, Recovery
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-06-26
Updated: 2017-06-26
Packaged: 2018-11-19 07:11:08
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,470
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11308338
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Cur/pseuds/Cur
Summary: Alexander Hamilton has had to cope with many things in life -- after a while, he becomes surprised to know he's not alone.





	Hurricane

**Author's Note:**

> I posted this on my instagram account a while back but I figure...why not publish it?

⠀  
⠀  
⠀⠀⠀ ⠀⠀⠀ ⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀ ⠀ ᴴᵁᴿᴿᴵᶜᴬᴺᴱ  
⠀  
⠀  
⠀⠀⠀ ⠀⠀⠀Maybe he spoke so often to avoid the quiet, the repetitive and unforgiving fear of something loud dawning. Maybe he moved so quickly, worked so diligently to hide away from these paranoias, to do as much as he could. His quill always pressed against the paper harshly, leaving his strong imprint, then scribbling away lightly, the ink dancing to form his brilliance.   
⠀  
⠀  
⠀⠀⠀ ⠀⠀⠀Maybe, just maybe, he had so many children, loved so many people, despised more, because he didn't have time to take a moment to consider. Maybe, just /maybe/, he knew he didn't have enough time. Of course, he wasn't too aware of such, otherwise he would've been a paranoid, small man of few words, rather than the outrageous, loud rambler he was. The truth of his feelings and thoughts often flew off his tongue, his breath shortened due to the lack of intake, and more than once he had to be rushed off to a doctor due to his paling skin and lack of life.   
⠀  
⠀  
⠀⠀⠀ ⠀⠀⠀No matter how long he spoke or how hard he worked, nothing could erase the past he had done so well at hiding. A hurricane had gifted him with the lovely life he led, but it cursed him with a phobia not even the fairest lady could cease.  
⠀  
⠀  
⠀⠀⠀ ⠀⠀⠀Alexander Hamilton stood not too far from his home, turning from it; He had just stepped out of his carriage, his dotting wife and fair children following his lead. His blue eyes were on the sky, set in a squint to avoid full contact with the deadly sun. The sky was bright, but clouds neared the light, giving a sign of darkening the day. The sky around it was yellow, just as it had been nearly thirty years prior.   
⠀  
⠀  
⠀⠀⠀ ⠀⠀⠀"My Hamilton, dear, let's return home," his wife hummed through the quiet streets. "God is hinting at a storm. Hear the noise, my darling?"   
⠀  
⠀  
⠀⠀⠀ ⠀⠀⠀For once, he gave no verbal nor physical reply. His eyes still worriedly scanned the skies above the large family, whom all looked towards him, confused.   
⠀  
⠀  
⠀⠀⠀ ⠀⠀⠀"My love?" whispered Elizabeth, her gentle hand reaching to entangle itself in his, but his hands were drawn at his side, his knuckles white. Nonetheless, she stood by his side, her eyes going up as well. "Alexander... You mustn't dwell on the sky's appearance nor your work efforts."   
⠀  
⠀  
⠀⠀⠀ ⠀⠀⠀"Daddy, can we go inside?" Philip, the eldest, wondered. "It's awfully cold."   
⠀  
⠀  
⠀⠀⠀ ⠀⠀⠀"It might rain," whispered Alexander.   
⠀  
⠀  
⠀⠀⠀ ⠀⠀⠀It rained. Alexander became dimly aware of storms, as it seemed the things occurring to him were much more violent. His concentration was divided; Partially on his paper, the rest consumed in his mind. He couldn't help but to recall his wife's look of horror as he stepped inside his home; Tears slipped down her face, devastation on her face. Angelica shoved him out of the home, cursing him out before ordering him to stay at his damned office. So he did.   
⠀  
⠀  
⠀⠀⠀ ⠀⠀⠀His eldest son had visited earlier in the day, explaining a duel with one George Eacker. Alexander gave the best advice he could muster during his son's time of distress — yet he couldn't help to think he sent his beloved son to his doom.  
⠀  
⠀  
⠀⠀⠀ ⠀⠀⠀"Sir? There's a doctor here-"  
⠀  
⠀  
⠀⠀⠀ ⠀⠀⠀"What does he want?"  
⠀  
⠀  
⠀⠀⠀ ⠀⠀⠀"Your son has been shot, sir."  
⠀

* * *

  
⠀  
⠀⠀⠀ ⠀⠀⠀ᵀᵂᴱᴺᵀᵞ ᵞᴱᴬᴿˢ ᴾᴿᴵᴼᴿ:  
⠀  
⠀  
⠀⠀⠀ ⠀⠀⠀"Uno, dos, tres."   
⠀  
⠀  
⠀⠀⠀ ⠀⠀⠀"That's /Spanish/, daddy," giggled Angelica, yet continued to play the keys. "Uno dos, tres," she sang back, gaining a smile from her father. "Cuatro, cinco, seis, siete..."  
⠀  
⠀  
⠀⠀⠀ ⠀⠀⠀"Ocho, nueve," he finished, correcting her hand placement. "Close, you're improving. I guess we have Aunt Angelica to thank for your improvement. It seems bearing the name makes you quite intelligent."  
⠀  
⠀  
⠀⠀⠀ ⠀⠀⠀Angelica Hamilton beamed and leant over to give her father a huge hug. "Maybe we can sing in Latin next time? Philip still doesn't know ten in Latin. I suppose he's just slow."  
⠀  
⠀  
⠀⠀⠀ ⠀⠀⠀"Come now, your brother is very intelligent, he's just a little poor at his numbers. Good thing his life doesn't depend on counting. Why don't you assist him? I hate to put your knowledge to no use." Angelica reluctantly agreed, yet eventually the pair became the dynamic duo of the family, inseparable as it would seem.  
⠀

* * *

  
⠀  
⠀⠀⠀ ⠀⠀⠀ᴺᴼᵂ, ᴬᵀ ᵀᴴᴱ ᶠᵁᴺᴱᴿᴬᴸ   
⠀  
⠀  
⠀⠀⠀ ⠀⠀⠀Alexander was sitting on the dirt, not far from the hole dug in the ground for his deceased son. Eliza was staring emptily at the hole, her eyes hollow of emotions—It was almost as though the heartbreak had shattered her as well. Angelica held onto her hand weeping herself; She had been close to her nephew, and witnessing the obvious devastation on the family clearly affected her. Her oldest niece was also sitting, giggling to herself, sounding louder than the sobs around them. Alexander flinched to the noise, his hand going over his mouth.  
⠀  
⠀  
⠀⠀⠀ ⠀⠀⠀Since the news of Philip's premature death had been delivered to the children, the now eldest child acted as the youngest, her mind set as though she were seven. She had no memory of Philip, but every memory of the songs her father had taught her. Overwhelmed with grief, Alexander felt even more helpless to his family's wellbeing. He couldn't even stand; Upon hearing the news he promptly collapsed, and seeing his son's limp body ripped his soul out of his body.  
⠀  
⠀  
⠀⠀⠀ ⠀⠀⠀His skin was paler in the mirror, and his hair matched the whitening tone. His lips were chap, often trembling from the grief that had shattered his heart. The memory of his own precious son withering away in agony to which he did not deserve — for 17 long hours — haunted the family, to the extent of mentally breaking them. As well as Angelica's chronic breakdown, Hamilton himself began to mutter more frequently to himself, desperately trying to reassure himself of pure lies.  
⠀  
⠀  
⠀⠀⠀ ⠀⠀⠀Anything was better than the truth. The truth, the oh-so unimaginable, impossible truth. Philip couldn't be dead, especially not so cruelly, so unfairly. Alexander found himself in the quiet church, cussing at God for cursing him throughout his life, for killing an innocent child.  
⠀  
⠀  
⠀⠀⠀ ⠀⠀⠀It was quiet uptown, to the extent of it being deafening to the previous treasury secretary. He hated the silence, he hated the disguise and lie of peace, but considering how ugly and treacherous the truth was, Alexander took what he was given without much argument. He'd pace the silent town, his trembling hands wringing together and going through his long, matted hair. Of course, the mutterings increased, especially with his lack of being able to speak to anyone.  
⠀  
⠀  
⠀⠀⠀ ⠀⠀⠀His eyes went up to the cloudy skies, silence around him. Rather then a sense of panic from his paranoia seize him, his shoulders relaxed and his focus went back down to Philip's grave, a soft smile forming on his dry lips.  
⠀  
⠀  
⠀⠀⠀ ⠀⠀⠀"Look at you, my beautiful angel. You're gorgeous in the skies, dear Philip. Say hello to your grandmother and Laurens, will you? I'm sure they shine just as bright as you."   
⠀  
⠀  
⠀⠀⠀ ⠀⠀⠀His smile fell off his face and his legs gave way again; Again he harshly hit the ground, an agonizing sob leaving him. Hot tears dripped down his cheeks as he crawled towards the stone. "Come back, brighten the skies from /here/!" He begged, gripping the gravestone. "Listen to me, you loving me made me proud enough. I am a pathetic man, a waste of space. Please, God, please! Trade me, you know my lack of worth– Not my son, not that /innocent/-"  
⠀  
⠀  
⠀⠀⠀ ⠀⠀⠀"My Hamilton," whispered a soft voice, breaking at the end. Alexander turned towards it, his eyes widening to Eliza holding Angelica's hand. Elizabeth knelt by his side — Angelica did the same — and gently took his hand, a tear falling down her face. She turned towards him, smiling weakly. "It's quiet uptown."  
⠀  
⠀  
⠀⠀⠀ ⠀⠀⠀"Oh, my Eliza, my love," he choked out, taking her single hand with both of his own. "My darling, if- I wish it were me, then you would smile-"  
⠀  
⠀  
⠀⠀⠀ ⠀⠀⠀She shushed him, but despite her weakening smile, more tears dripped down her face. "He is happier now, safe. He made you proud, he made /us/ proud. You have me, my Hamilton, and plenty of other children to pay mind to. One more than others."  
⠀  
⠀  
⠀⠀⠀ ⠀⠀⠀Her eyes went to her daughter behind her, whom was playing with the flowers surrounding Philip's stone.   
⠀  
⠀  
⠀⠀⠀ ⠀⠀⠀"Play her a tune, will you?"  
⠀  
⠀  
⠀⠀⠀ ⠀⠀⠀Alexander nodded slowly, then applying two rough kisses against Eliza's palms. He stood and gently helped up Angelica. After leading her inside, they sat at a piano, and he began to play.  
⠀  
⠀  
⠀⠀⠀ ⠀⠀⠀"Uno, dos, tres, cuarto, cinco, seis..."  
⠀  
⠀  
⠀⠀⠀ ⠀⠀⠀"Siete, ocho, nueve," Angelica finished, playing the piano quite naturally. Alexander smiled and applied a kiss to her forehead.   
⠀  
⠀  
⠀⠀⠀ ⠀⠀⠀Perhaps the quiet wasn't a curse; Perhaps Hamilton himself was the storm whom attacked in fear of being attacked.


End file.
